Vivia pushed into the hall right as a figure exited through the door at the end, thick and bulky as if someone was draped across their back. Vaness. Before Vivia could shout for the Empress or kick into a run, a second figure materialized from the same door, a curved knife flickering in his left hand. In his right, winds swirled. Vivia felt more than saw those winds—just as she knew immediately that this man had come for her.

Dalmotti must have sent him. She recognized those rounded knives, just as she recognized the two rapiers hanging at his hips. He and the other man were Assassin Guild. Excellent at what they did: murder, stealing, kidnapping.

A ball of winds loosed; Vivia dove sideways; wind scraped against her shoulder, hard enough to bend bones. Sharp enough to flay skin.

Sailors stirred in other cells. Cam’s voice pierced out, “Majesty!”

Vivia lunged for the man in black, but her shoulder hurt. The bones resisted, and he easily dodged before loosing a second blast of winds, sharp and targeted, like knives made for each organ. One at her heart, one at her stomach, and two for her eyeballs.

Vivia barely flung up her arms to protect her eyes and heart. She twisted sideways to prevent a deadly blow to her belly. Still, the winds did damage, hitting her forearms, her side. Heat ignited. Blood and pain, briefly blinding in the intensity.

She screamed. Not because of the injuries but because she could not fight this Windwitch alone. She needed her sailors, now pounding against their wooden doors. She needed Yoris and his soldiers—anyone who might show up before this Windwitch drew in his winds for a third attack.

Still hollering, Vivia propelled herself for the exit, snagging the lantern as she ran. It wasn’t a targeted throw or a graceful one, but it was the distraction she needed. The glass connected with the man’s shoulder, and she reached the stairs.

She took two uneven steps at a time, bellowing as she ran. “Intruders! Intruders!” Then she reached the ground floor and burst out beneath the ship. “Intruders!” Lights flickered inside the galleon and footsteps thumped out. She didn’t wait for help, but instead skittered left. Toward the river and where another figure was now vanishing into the night.

She didn’t consider her own escape as she sprinted for the river. She thought only of Vaness, unconscious and claimed. Vivia would get her back. No matter what it took, she would get her back.

The river’s waters called to her, powerful. Soothing. Ready to be tapped and used and violent in her name. Each inhale brought more power, more water. Each step sent the wind-shorn pain receding further and the magic suffusing in. It filled her, as it always did, and held her in the moment so that she was nothing more than water, tides, and time.